


A Royal Affair

by Allikizme



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Slow Burn, Versailles - Freeform, i don't know her, royal au, trying to keep the magic/superhero part we will see if it works, what's historical accuracy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-06-24 02:49:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15620874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allikizme/pseuds/Allikizme
Summary: It's 1706. Marinette is a Chinese princess, sent to France under the cover of diplomacy to recover the stolen Miraculouses. She soon discovers one of the Miraculouses, held by a musketeer named Chat Noir. He agrees to help her find the rest if she helps him stop the akuma. Meanwhile, le Dauphin Prince Adrien has unexpectedly stolen her heart.Basically Marinette is a princess, Ladybug is a deadly martial artist, Adrien is the prince of France, and Chat Noir is a musketeer and has a cool hat. also Gabriel has a big wig and wears tights.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey this is a fun thing to write. i've actually done a lot of research but since this is a fanfic and things don't have to add up they won't a lot of the time. I'm honestly so preoccupied with the idea of Chat Noir wearing a hat with a huge plume and fighting with a sword like the Scarlet Pimpernel like that's why I'm writing this rn. 
> 
> also if you know more about China in this time than me please correct me I'm doing my best

Marinette may have been ill at ease in her royal _qipao,_ with bright red tassels dangling from her ornamental headpiece, but it did not show on her face. She surveyed the silly French court with a look her grandfather would have been proud of. Any one of these people, she thought. Any one of them could have stolen them.

She unconsciously raised a hand to the black gems that swung from her ears. Now, with their magic dormant, she couldn’t sense the Miraculouses around her. But she knew they were there.

“Princess,” snapped Madame Bustier. “You must be more approachable! How will China ever establish trade with France if no one speaks to you?”

Marinette held her tongue. On the surface, this was a diplomatic mission. It chafed the emperor’s pride to send someone abroad, rather than wait for the other country to admit China’s superiority. But something valuable had been stolen from the emperor, and it was imperative that no one knew the true purpose of her visit.

“Will I be presented to the king soon?” Marinette asked in Chinese.

“ _En Fran_ _çais,_ ” Madame Bustier hissed. “The king hasn’t even arrived yet.”

“Oh _god,_ ” someone said. “ _What_ is she _wearing?_ ”

“Highly unfashionable,” another agreed.

Marinette turned slightly to see two French ladies of the court, around her own age. One wore makeup in that distasteful French way, accentuating every corner of her face. She had blonde hair done up in a large bouffant, adorned with pearls. Her dress was bright yellow, something Marinette had to remind herself was not reserved for the king here. The other had orange hair, rather short, and wore a pale lavender dress that Marinette actually liked.

“I’m sorry,” Marinette said, smiling a little. “Who are you?”

The orange one squawked. “How _dare_ you! This is Dame Chloé Bourgeois! The future _reine_ of France!”

“Oh?” Marinette frowned. “You’re engaged to the prince?”

Chloé gave her friend a smack with her bejeweled fan. “Sabrina, be quiet.” Then she sighed heavily. “Yes, everyone knows that I will soon marry _le Dauphin,_ Adrien. It’s simply right that the two most beautiful people in France be joined before God.”

Marinette took this girl in again, from her bedazzled fan to the pearls in her hair. She wanted to tell her that what her grandfather wore on one hand was worth more than her father’s French fiefdom. But she did not. Instead, she said, “That’s nice.”

Chloé gave her a strange look, then harrumphed and left her in peace. Her friend Sabrina hurried after her.

“You see?” Marinette said to her teacher. “I am making connections.”

Madame Bustier did not have time to scold her, for the music stopped and everyone turned their attention to the end of the great hall, where the head butler stood. “ _Mesdames et messiers,_ the butler announced. “ _Le Roi de France et de Navarre,_ _Roi du Soleil,_ Gabriel.”

The men bowed, and the women dropped into deep curtsies. There, at the entrance to the mirrored hall, stood a tall man with a serious face. Atop his head he wore a great, powdered wig, in his hand a pearl-topped cane. His suit was powder blue and embroidered in gold.

 “ _Monseigneur le Dauphin,_ Adrien.”

A young man stepped into the hall. The prince. She had been shown his likeness on the voyage, but it did not compare. They called his father the Sun King, but surely they meant his son. Absolutely radiant, with hair blond as wheat. Even from here she could see his eyes were green like imperial jade. He stood tall, straight-backed, and looked over the heads of his people.

Chloé had been right on one thing, at least. This man was beautiful. But Marinette pushed that thought away. He was but another prince. Marinette was the daughter of the eighth princess of Emperor Qin, and she alone had been chosen amongst her cousins to wield the power of the Miraculous.

King Gabriel took his seat in his throne, and the members of the court lined up to pay their respects to him.

After a dull half hour, and the people were back to mingling, Madame Bustier walked Marinette to the throne. King Gabriel sat rigidly, a servant beside him holding a bottle of champagne for when _le roi_ ’s glass ran dry. On the other side, in a fine powder blue suit only slightly less extravagant than his father’s, was Prince Adrien.

“ _Monsieur le Roi,_ ” said Madame Bustier, curtsying. “I present to you Princess Mei Ai Nuo, or Marinette, of the Qing Dynasty.”

King Gabriel gave her a look that made her feel ice in her heart. Then, with an air of dismissal, raised his right hand to her.

Marinette’s eyes widened. Did… did he expect her to kiss his ring? She glanced at Madame Bustier for help. Her teacher gave the tiniest nod.

Oh god. This wasn’t covered in her training. Was she expected to actually kiss his ring or the air above it? Should she grab his hand to do so? 

“ _Allez-y,_ child,” King Gabriel said.

Marinette felt her cheeks turn pink as she bowed low and kissed just above the ring. King Gabriel withdrew his hand and waved at Adrien. “My son,” he said. “Prince Adrien.” He nodded. “He will dance with you.”

Marinette was taken aback. She looked at the prince, who gave her a most breathtaking smile. “ _Mademoiselle,_ ” he said, bowing slightly, “may I have this dance?”

Marinette curtsied like she’d been taught. “I would be honored, _monsieur._ ”

Prince Adrien took her hand lightly in his and led her onto the dance floor. Marinette felt that people were staring. The red tassels in her hair swayed in and out of her vision. Adrien placed one hand behind his back and his other arm against hers. He stepped, and she followed, like she had been taught during the voyage to France.

“Was the journey long, mademoiselle?” the prince inquired.

“Yes,” Marinette said. “But I am happy to have come. Establishing trade between our nations is so important.”

“Indeed,” the prince said, and Marinette resisted rolling her eyes. “Tell me, where does your French name come from?”

“Ah. My father is French.”

The _Dauphin_ smiled. “That would explain why you’re so beautiful.”

Marinette missed a step, and stumbled into the prince. He caught her easily and righted her, but Marinette could have sworn she heard that Chloé girl scoff.

“I understand that you will be staying with us for some time,” Adrien went on, his steps perfectly on rhythm.

Now that Marinette had made one mistake, she couldn’t remember how to keep going. She was a step behind, then one ahead, then the wrong foot, then another. She felt flustered. “Um, I, yes. My emperor, the China of grandfathers—I mean! Um. My father—no. I… ambassador?”

Now the prince laughed. “I think it’s wonderful our countries are trying to establish trade.” He leaned close and murmured, “And I’m glad you’re not another unsubtle attempt of my father’s to find me a bride.”

Marinette bristled at the prince’s attitude. Did he think every woman presented to him wished to wed him? She halted. “No, _Dauphin,_ I am a diplomat here to further my country’s economy, not a concubine sent for the pleasure of the French house.”

Prince Adrien blinked at her, his expression regretful. “I-I’m sorry, _mademoiselle,_ I did not mean to offend.”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant,” she said. “It matters what you said. The future ruler of a country should know that. Now, excuse me.” Marinette folded her arms into the sleeves of her _qipao_ and walked away.

Marinette saw Madame Bustier gaping at her, so she changed directions and headed to the mostly vacant seats on the far side of the hall. She dropped into one with a huff and thought longingly of China.

“Is he that bad a dancer?” someone asked.

Marinette looked up. A beautiful dark-skinned lady was seated only a few chairs away. She had the most incredible dark hair, and she wore a striking orange dress with pearls stitched into the bodice. She held, instead of a fan, a golden rod with a pair of eyeglasses on top. “I mean,” she went on, “ _le Dauphin_ is certainly has to be bad at something, right?”

With a snort, Marinette folded her arms. “Bad at talking to foreign dignitaries,” she said.

“Such as yourself?” The woman raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “I was wondering why I hadn’t seen you before. Dame Alya, of House Césaire, from Avignon.”

Marinette smiled politely. “Princess Marinette, _de Chine._ ”

Dame Alya’s jaw dropped. “China?” she said, incredulous. “That’s amazing. I have been desperate to leave France, and see the world. I’ve written all there is to write about our great country. It’s time to learn from others.”

“They allow women to write?” asked Marinette.

Alya smirked. “Only the good ones. In China, women have little privilege, _non?_ ”

“Women have plenty of privilege,” Marinette said. “I just… assumed Europe was more restricting.”

Alya said, “Then we both have much to learn. Princess Marinette, I would be delighted to meet with you during your stay at Versailles. I have a lovely apartment in the west wing, you _must_ come visit me.”

Madame Bustier had told her to make connections, thought Marinette. “It would be my pleasure,” she said.

There was the sound of glass breaking. Marinette and Alya turned to see two ladies of the court all but fighting. “What are they doing?” Marinette cried.

“I’m not sure,” Alya said, frowning. “I’ve never seen Aurore so angry.”

Marinette stared, but she could practically hear Madame Bustier’s disapproval, so she turned away. And, was it her imagination, or was it growing dark in the palace?

Suddenly someone screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i did some research (emphasis on some) and learned that the yoyo probably originated in China. So I don't think it's inaccurate to say Ladybug uses one. I do think calling it a yoyo is kinda not accurate, but c'est la vie. I realized after I'd posted the first chapter that really, this should've been the Origins episode miraculous. It would've worked really well, like Ivan asks Mylene to dance and she's nervous and says no, so he's upset, or even he asks to marry her, or someone else asks Mylene before he can. Oh well. I like how this came out (except I think the action could've been better)
> 
> enjoy

The people in the Hall of Mirrors scrambled to pull away from the newcomer in their midst. A woman, in a deep purple dress, holding a parasol, was left standing in a clearing in the crowd. Her hair was shockingly white, and around her eyes were strange purple stains. The wind pushed open the windows and blew out the chandeliers, and the only source of light was this woman and her moon-white hair.

Marinette’s heart stopped. This had to be the work of the Miraculous! But which one? She didn’t recognize it from Master Fu’s book.

A girl stepped toward the new woman, timid. “Aurore?” she said. “Is that you?”

Suddenly the woman lashed out with her parasol, and sprayed sharp shards of ice at the crowd. Those who were touched became encased in blocks of ice.

“Aurore is gone!” the woman cried. “I am Climatika!”

Marinette jumped to her feet. “Tikki,” she whispered, lifting her sleeve to peer inside. “Tikki, where are you?”

The tiny red god that typically dwelled in her left sleeve was absent. Marinette had an inkling as to where she might be. She carefully wove through the crowd to where she remembered seeing the buffet table.

“You’re going to pay for what you’ve done!” Climatika raised her parasol to the ceiling, and a bolt of lightning shot from it with a tremendous clap of thunder.

The room erupted into panic. Ladies and lords of the court ran for the doors, but a great gust of wind forced them shut before anyone could make it out.

“Where is the king?” someone shouted.

“ _On va tous mourir!_ ”

Marinette gave up discretion and ran to the table. “Tikki!” she hissed. “Tikki where are you!?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of bright red, and with reflexes drilled into her by her master she snatched the kwami out of the air.

“Mei Ai!” the kwami cried, indignant. “What was that for?”

Climatika fired more lightning into the ceiling, and a great hole opened up there, revealing an evil black sky. “All in this court will perish! The weather is at my command!” She laughed, a great, villainous laugh, and thundered boomed across the sky.

“We have to go!” Marinette said. “There’s a monster!” After a quick look around, she ducked under the heavy tablecloth, wincing for the sake of her silk robes. “Okay, transform me!”

The kwami’s magic washed over her, like the tide over the sand, and instead of the silk of her _qipao_ she felt the loose, breezy cotton of her black gi. The red mask that appeared over her eyes felt like a weight being lifted. Marinette rolled out from under the table and removed her weapon from her obi.

Climatika had begun to levitate, rising toward the cloudy ceiling and firing blasts from her parasol. People were frozen as they fled, now cold, beautiful statues.

Marinette vaulted over the buffet table and threw her yoyo. It caught on one of the brass arms of a chandelier and pulled her up. She went soaring, her leg out, and landed a kick in Climatika’s stomach.

Climatika made a sound like a rug being beaten and flew back several yards. Marinette dropped back to the ground and landed with a roll. “Who are you?” Climatika cried.

Marinette hurled her yoyo out, attempting to latch onto the monster’s leg, but Climatika dodged. Marinette yelled, “You thief!”

Climatika threw a blade of ice at her. Marinette flipped out of the way, and realized that with her opponent so high in the air, there wasn’t much she could do. She feared she would have to rely on her true power.

“ _Bonsoir, mesdames!_ ”

Both Marinette and Climatika looked. The people huddled against the door looked. Standing in the open window was a musketeer. He wore all black, from his boots to his cape. His hat had a great, dark plume in it. It made his green eyes all the more vibrant, glinting from behind a mask.

Marinette frowned. There was something strange about his eyes. They weren’t quite human. 

Suddenly she heard something whiz, and Marinette leapt to avoid it, but the ice caught her in the foot. She tugged at her now frozen leg to no avail.

In the same moment Climatika attacked the newcomer. The musketeer hardly moved, but in a blink his sword was drawn and the ice shattered against the wall.

“Hardly a warm welcome,” he called, and he gave a devious smile.

Climatika threw another bolt, and another. The musketeer deflected them all with ease. Then he dropped out of the window and advanced.

“Men like you want to take away my happiness!” Climatika screamed, and hurled bolt after bolt at him. The musketeer dodged more elaborately, and then more desperately. Marinette grabbed a fallen brass candelabra and hacked at the ice.

“Who are they?” Climatika said suddenly. After she spoke, something lit up around her face. The shape of a butterfly.

The musketeer appeared in front of Marinette. “Hello,” he said. “My name is Chat Noir. Would you like some help?”

“Wait!” Marinette cried, and she leaned around him to get a better look at Climatika. That shape! But she couldn’t see the Miraculous itself on her.

The musketeer swung at the ice trapping her with his sword. The ice broke and Marinette, suddenly off-balance, fell over. He sheathed his sword and offered her his hand.

That was when Marinette saw it. There, on his hand. The Miraculous of the black cat.

Marinette snarled at him, then backflipped onto her feet, ready to fight. “Thief!” she said. “All of you, thieves!”

Chat Noir drew his sword and scowled. “I don’t want to fight you,” he said. He pointed to Climatika, and Marinette did not fail to notice the signature claws of the black cat. “We have to save her!”

Marinette looked at the musketeer, really looked at him. His eyes were bright green and cat-like, but there was something in them. Something she felt she could trust.

Marinette’s eyes widened, and she caught Chat Noir with her yoyo and yanked him out of the way just as a blade of ice shattered on the floor where he had been standing. Marinette held him against her, bound by the cord of her yoyo. “We have to take away her parasol,” she said. “Do you know how to use the power of the black cat?”

Climatika screeched, and the wind around them picked up. “Uh,” he said, his feather waving, “you mean besides the sword?”

“Look inside,” Marinette told him. “You will feel it. Now go.” She pushed him, unraveling him from her yoyo. While he fought to stay upright, Marinette through her yoyo up above. “Lucky charm!” she cried.

In a flash of light, something red and black appeared and dropped into Marinette’s hands. “A cape?” she said, holding it up and inspecting it. It immediately began flapping in the wind.

Suddenly Marinette knew what to do. “You!” she called. “Black musketeer!”

“It’s Chat Noir!” he yelled over the howling wind.

“Use your power on the wall! I need more wind!”

Chat Noir said, “Destroy the wall? The wall of Versailles!?”

“How else can we get more wind!”

Chat Noir looked reluctant, but he sheathed his sword and ran toward the wall.

Marinette kept her eye on Climatika, and while Chat Noir hurried away, she saw again the light of the butterfly Miraculous. She threw her yoyo at Climatika and smacked her in the stomach. Climatika took the hit and looked at her with fury. Marinette yanked the weapon back and spun it, ready.

Climatika’s full attention was on her. She threw everything she had—icicles and snowballs and lightning strikes. Marinette dodged her strikes with the concentrated ease of a master.

Chat Noir wove through ice sculptures that used to be members of the court and skidded to a halt at the wall. He turned back to the fight. “How is it done?”

Marinette did not take her eyes off Climatika. “You have to feel it!” In her ear, she heard a chime, the first one. She only had minutes before her magic was depleted. “Come on!”

Chat Noir swung his sword at the wall. He grunted and tried again, to no avail. Finally he sheathed his sword and hunched, his clawed hands ready. And although Marinette wasn’t looking, she felt the magic of his Miraculous gathering, getting ready.

“ _Cataclysme!_ ”

The shout rang through the hall, loud enough to distract Climatika. Marinette readied her cape.

The wall of the Hall of Mirrors turned black as if a sickness had infected it. Before the eyes of everyone in the court the wall of the palace crumbled away to ash, opening them to the vicious storm raging outside.

The wind raced to fill the hall, blowing in sheets of rain. Marinette let the cape out and held it like a sail. It caught, and she lurched upwards, straight toward Climatika.

Marinette collided with her, tangling her up in the fabric. In the confusion, Climatika dropped her parasol.

As soon as she heard it clatter to the ground, Marinette dropped and landed directly on it. The weapon broke with a crack.

 _There,_ she thought, but to her surprise, a small, violet butterfly escaped from inside the wood.

Instinct took over. Before she truly understood what she was doing Marinette took out her yoyo and opened it. She had never thought to open it before. Inside it glowed like a star.

 _Catch it,_ a voice told her.

Marinette lashed out with the open device and swung it into the butterfly. It appeared to swallow it.

Confused, Marinette drew the yoyo back, and hesitated a moment before cautiously opening it again. The butterfly fluttered lazily out and away, now white and pure. Marinette saw that Climatika was kneeling on the floor, but she wasn’t Climatika, not anymore. She was a lady of the court, with lovely hair, sobbing into her hand.

“The palace!” someone cried.

“My husband!” said another.

Marinette took the cape and tossed it high above her, as she had often practiced with Master Fu. From the conjured item came thousands of ladybugs, and they rushed around to put everything just like it was, from the frozen nobles to the ruined wall.

“ _Mademoiselle_ ,” came a voice, and Marinette turned to see Chat Noir. The thief. Looking at her with something akin to admiration in his eyes. “You are remarkable. Please, what is your name?”

Marinette’s eyes went to his hand. The ring. Right there. She ought to take it. But another chime in her ear stayed her hand. If she was revealed to the court, what would King Gabriel do to her? She might never have the chance to recover the rest of the Miraculouses. At least she knew where this one was.

“I am…” she hesitated. “Um. What do you call the little insects that are red and black?”

Chat Noir frowned. “ _Une coccinelle?_ ”

Her earrings chimed again. “Yes, that’s it. That’s me.” She stepped closer to him. “You’d better go. Now that you’ve used your power, your transformation will wear off soon.” Then she grabbed his arm and squeezed, hard. “Meet me tomorrow night. In the town.”

She had meant it as menacing, but Chat Noir looked anything but. “Anything to see you again,” he said.

Marinette let go, hesitated a moment more, then vaulted out the window.

* * *

 

 _T_ _ā m_ _ā de,_ thought Marinette as she struggled through the bushes she had landed in. _T_ _ā m_ _ā de_ , _t_ _ā m_ _ā de_ , _t_ _ā m_ _ā de!_

The moment she was free of the rain-soaked bramble, her earrings gave their final chime and she was on her knees, in the wet grass, wearing her imperial robes. She swore again, out loud, and picked herself up. She supposed it wasn’t the first time.

With a heavy sigh, Marinette hurried around to the door to make it look like she had left with the crowd.

* * *

 

The atmosphere of the party was certainly not festive. Marinette managed to reenter without suspicion, until Madame Bustier saw her and threw her arms around her with heavy sobs. “Oh, ch-child,” she blubbered. “I was so afraid! What if you had been frozen?”

Marinette patted her arm gently. “I still would not be half as cold as you,” she teased.

She feared her teacher would reprimand her, but instead she pulled away, smiling, and wiped her tears. “Ah, my dear,” she said. “You’ll do well for yourself here.”

“Ah, princess.” Dame Alya approached her, smiling. “I am glad to see you’re unhurt.”

“And you,” Marinette said, and she was surprised to find she meant it.

Suddenly, Alya’s voice dropped, and she took on a look of an eager child. “Tell me you saw that incredible woman that saved our lives! _La coccinelle!_ She was absolutely _magnifique!_ ” Her eyes glittered like the king’s jewels. “I must meet her. No, I must write of her! She is my muse!”

Marinette had to laugh. “I’m sure she would be flattered to know. But, tell me Alya, what happened? Why did that girl become a monster?”

Alya shrugged. “We have heard rumors of this sort of thing happening in Paris, but we assumed it was just the superstitions of the lower class. This is the first I’ve heard of it. But, I think that Aurore was upset that Mireille might be married.”

“Mireille?” Marinette looked at Aurore, who had been helped into a chair by— _le Dauphin?_

“Yes, the quiet girl there.” Alya pointed. “She has been in love with Mireille for months, but I heard that some lord proposed to her tonight. Aurore was jealous.” Marinette glanced at Mireille, but she was drawn back to the incredible sight before her.

Prince Adrien sat beside Aurore, holding her hand in his, and a kerchief in the other. Aurore still had tears in her eyes, but she was laughing at something he had said. She watched Prince Adrien wave over a servant, and the two of them escorted Aurore out of the hall, away from the prying eyes of the crowd.

“Are Aurore and Prince Adrien close?” Marinette asked.

Alya said, “Hm? No, not at all. But he is so kind. His father makes him act so high, but it doesn’t suit him at all, does it?”

Marinette thought back to their dance, and how he had called her _beautiful._ A flush spread across her cheeks and down her neck. “No,” she said, distantly. “I suppose it doesn’t.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi sorry this took forever my bf was here and we did a loooong road trip and then this chapter just felt slow and awful and yeah. i'm trying to plan this story to only have 15 chapters max so i'll actually finish it. i researched the hell out of this chapter so please, enjoy!

“Please, sir,” said the servant. “Surely you need attending, after a night like tonight.”

“No, no,” Adrien said. He picked up the pace to his bedchamber. “Really, I’m fine.” He opened the door just enough to slip through.

The servant caught the door with his foot before Adrien could close it. “ _Monseigneur,_ the king insisted I check that—.”  

Adrien pushed the door, but it did not budge. “No, really,” he said. “That is all. You are dismissed.” With a determined shove, the door closed and locked. Adrien turned around and sighed, sliding down with his back against the door.

A tiny black creature zipped out of his pocket and came to float near his head. “Your father certainly puts on a good party,” he said. Then, lamentingly, “But I didn’t sample nearly enough cheese.”

Adrien gave him a look. “You know where the cheese is, Plagg, help yourself.”

The kwami flew through the closed cupboard door and reemerged with a large slice of camembert.

“Did you see that woman?” Adrien said. He got to his feet and began undoing the many buttons of his suit. “ _La Coccinelle?_ ”

Plagg had a mouthful of cheese and did not answer.

Adrien shed his suit and fell onto his bed with a sigh. “I’ve never seen anything like her. Her movements, her poise. Who was she?” He sighed again, heat rising in his cheeks. “I think I’m in love.”

* * *

 

Marinette frowned at the size of her chamber in Versailles. She stepped across plush carpet that was a deep blue color, very unlike the wooden floors of her home. And perhaps the room was not small, she thought, just crowded. The walls each had a large painting of some French royal, each with pinched faces and gray hair. She looked up toward the high ceiling, which was itself a sea of cherubs and colors. Marinette went over to the bed and sat down on it, and almost sank into it. She struggled to climb back out.

There was another door in the chamber, and this door opened to reveal Madame Bustier. “Princess,” she said, “do you need anything? How do you like your chamber?”

Marinette managed to stand up and adjusted the sleeves of her _qipao._ “Why is the bed so soft?” she demanded in Chinese.

“Speak French, child!” Madame Bustier reprimanded. “It is stuffed with goose feathers.”

Marinette huffed. “And why is it wider than it is tall?” she continued in Chinese. “Is that not the top? Am I meant to lie down sideways?”

“Here,” Madame Bustier said, switching to her heavily accented Chinese, “the people believe that to lie down fully is to invite death. The French sleep sitting up.”

Marinette said, “That is absolutely ridiculous.”

Madame Bustier frowned. “Do not be so prejudiced. There are many things in Chinese culture the French would find ridiculous as well.” She switched to French. “Tomorrow, we must wake up early to observe the _lever_ ceremony. After, we have breakfast with the king and _le dauphin._ ”

“Do all the—?”

“ _Français!_ ”

Marinette scowled. “Do all the nobles live in Versailles? Like Dame Alya?”

“Yes, or close to it.”

“How do they guard their provinces?”

“An excellent question,” Madame Bustier said. “And one you will certainly not pose to King Gabriel or his son.”

Marinette sighed. “ _Oui, madame._ ”

“Good night, Princess.”

“Good night.”

* * *

 

Marinette slept badly, and was woken up at an ungodly hour for the _lever_ ceremony, which actually consisted of several nobles standing around King Gabriel while he dressed, ate porridge, and prayed. The audience, Marinette was stunned to find, paid rapt attention to all of this. When the prayers were done, they were all dismissed. Despite being desperately tired, Marinette immediately took out her calligraphy set and wrote a long letter to her parents about the frivolity of French customs.

_M_ _āmā, I watched his servants tie his laces! And powder his hair! It is not even his hair, it is a wig! Does he sleep in it?_

By the time Marinette finished complaining, the letter was three pages long. And she had only been at Versailles for two days!

Madame Bustier came knocking before Marinette could lie back down. “Time for breakfast.”

Marinette said, “The king already had breakfast!”

“Don’t be petulant,” Madame Bustier said.

And so, grumbling as much as she could get away with, Marinette followed the maid that was waiting to lead them to the king’s chambers.

Marinette’s life in China was not extravagant. Her mother was a princess with no chance at the throne, and had married a foreigner. They did not live in the palace, but visited often, especially since Marinette alone was chosen amongst her cousins to bear the only remaining Miraculous. She had spent her life with opulence all around her, never quite touching it.

Here in France, the opulence was almost assaulting.

They were back in the king’s chambers, the same room as the _putain_ ceremony this morning, but now the space was occupied by a great wooden table, draped with a bright golden tablecloth and covered in silver dishes. Like her own chamber, there were great paintings on the walls, but these were of war scenes, of noble riders in tight clothing atop screaming horses. The frames were gold, the furniture was gold, even the upholstery was gold. Marinette looked up at the ceiling to see a mural centered by a chandelier, and gold painted into the mural.

Prince Adrien stood by the couch, his arms behind his back, and when Marinette saw him she felt a slight blush. Then he noticed her, and smiled wide, and Marinette went from being slightly blushy to loss of blood to her extremities. He approached her, bowed low, and kissed her hand before she could even think about it.

“Princess,” he said, and he straightened up, his expression sober. “May I begin by apologizing for last night. Not only was the evening, er, chaotic, but I conducted myself in such a manner as to bring offense to you. Know that it was not my intention, and I do hope you will excuse our first meeting in the hope of a bright future for our two countries.”

Marinette blinked, utterly dazzled by his face and utterly confounded by his vocabulary. “Um,” she said. “ _Merci?_ ”

Prince Adrien broke into another brilliant smile. “May I show you to your seat?”

Marinette followed him, tripped over her own shoe, and very nearly faceplanted into the plush carpet. Adrien kept his face as placid as possible.

There were no other guests. This was a private meal, to welcome the emissary from China. Adrien brought Marinette to sit beside him, and Madame Bustier across from them. The head of the table was, of course, reserved for the king.

“S-so,” Marinette said, “you were not at the _lever_ this morning.”

Adrien shook his head. “No, I. Hm. I find it rather frivolous.” His voice dropped. “Don’t tell my father, but I intend to discontinue the tradition once I am king.”

Marinette blinked several times. “Um,” she said. “Discontinue?”

“Ah,” said Adrien. He paused. “Do away with? End? _Finir?_ ”

“ _Finir,_ yes.” Marinette nodded. “Good. It was very ridiculous.”

Adrien chuckled. “I’m sorry to tell you that there is also a _coucher_ ceremony.”  

Marinette groaned, and it was apparently too loud, because Madame Bustier made an indignant noise.

At that moment, a servant entered. “Announcing his royal majesty, _Le Roi de France et de Navarre,_ _Roi du Soleil,_ Gabriel.”

The king entered the salon, today dressed a bright yellow suit with a ruffled cravat. He had white tights that showed every inch of his legs. His buckle shoes were heeled, and though his face had only a slight amount of makeup, his wig was nonetheless extravagant.

They stood until he took his seat. With a wave of his hand, the meal commenced.

Marinette had never seen such food. Servants pulled silver covers off the dishes in fluid motions, revealing incredible and decadent arrays of meats, cheeses, fruits, and soups. Marinette was surprised that everything was cold. She eyed the king, wondering if he would punish the staff for it, but the king wished the table _bon appetit_ and tucked in.

Hesitant, Marinette watched Prince Adrien choose his food before following his lead. She avoided the rather pungent fish but took heaps of bread. There was a knife for her to use, and a spoon for soup. King Gabriel proceeded to eat with his hands. Marinette scowled inwardly. All that training to use a fork, and they didn’t even have them!

“Tell me, Princess Marinette,” King Gabriel said, “how do you find my palace?”

“Oh!” Marinette scrambled to find the words. “It’s lovely. It’s very colorful. My bed is very soft.”

The king nodded. “I am glad to hear it. And, despite the awkward occurrence last night, did you meet members of the court?”

“Yes, I met Dame Alya, and, er, Bourgeois? Chloé ? She was not nice.”

“The Bourgeois family is very close to us,” said the king, his expression unchanged. Marinette considered hiding under the table. “Isn’t that right, Adrien?”

Adrien glanced down at Marinette before answering. “Of course, Father.”

King Gabriel cut a slice off of the lamb on his plate and tore it delicately with his fingers. “You know, I visited China, in my youth.”

Marinette did not know how to interpret this subject change. “Really, my lord?” Yes, that was a very neutral response. Good diplomacy, Marinette.

“Yes,” he said. “With Adrien’s mother, even, my dear queen.” He gave what might be considered a smile. “Truly a beautiful country. I drew much inspiration from its people and its landscapes.” He gestured to a plate of oranges on the table. “Fruit from your home, that I fell in love with. We grow it here in Versailles now.”

Marinette looked at the plate. Here, she realized, was something so familiar, in so foreign a place. She wondered if the oranges felt as out of place as she did.

“Princess,” the king said, “I have a gift for you.” He waved a servant over, who held a rolled up piece of canvas. “I do hope you’ll like it.”

The servant stood in front of Marinette and unfurled the canvas.

Marinette’s jaw dropped. The charcoal drawing was clearly herself, but instead of her Chinese dress, she wore a great, flowing French ball gown.

“Oh,” she said, because it took her breath away. “I love it, _seigneur._ ” And she meant it.

“Tomorrow is the initial fitting.” King Gabriel took a sip of wine. “We will make adjustments as we go.”

Marinette said, “Fitting? What do you mean?”

Adrien laughed a little. “The dress has to be made, princess. This is just a rough sketch.”

Marinette’s eyes widened, and she must have been silent for too long, because Madame Bustier stepped in. “This gift is very generous, my lord. Thank you.”

King Gabriel dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “ _Je vous en prie,_ ” he said. He waved the staff again. “Next course.”

* * *

 

Marinette sat atop the roof of a Versailles bakery, in her Ladybug form, cursing from here to China the absolutely ridiculous practice of the _lever_ AND the _coucher_ , when she sensed something behind her. She turned, ready to fight.

Chat Noir knelt on the roof, his sword at his side, his cape billowing out behind him. “Milady,” he said, lifting his head to reveal those piercing green eyes, “it would seem you have a blue streak.”

Ladybug lowered her guard. “You have a lot to answer to, Chat Noir.”

“I think you do as well, Ladybug.” He rose to his feet. “But ladies first.”

“How did you come to be in possession of the black cat Miraculous?”

Chat Noir fixed her with his gaze. “It was left to me by my mother.”

“How did she get it?”

“I don’t know.”

Ladybug took two steps and pinned Chat Noir under her knee in one swift movement. “Don’t lie to me!”

Chat Noir coughed, his eyes glittering. “I’m telling the truth. That’s all I know.”

Ladybug scowled, but as much as she disliked it, she believed him. She released her hold on him. “How long have you had it?” she asked.

“Since my mother left,” he said. “Three months ago. Do I get a turn?”

Ladybug considered it, then nodded.

Chat Noir said, “Do you know why that girl attacked everyone?”

Ladybug hesitated. “Well, I’m sure it’s one of the Miraculous. But I don’t know which one. And I don’t think she has it herself.”

“I know why she attacked.” Chat Noir turned to look out over Paris. “Because she’s not the first.”

“The first monster?”

“They call themselves akuma. Climatika is the third one I’ve seen. I used to think they were demons of some kind, but then I saw how you purified Climatika, and how confused she was afterwards. Now I think they’re ordinary people who have been possessed.”

Possessed? Ladybug pictured Master Fu’s book, trying to determine which Miraculous would be capable of that. “It’s possible,” she said. “But I don’t know for sure. But the other people, does that mean they weren’t purified?”

Chat Noir grimaced. “I’ve fought them, but I’ve never defeated one. They run off and come back every few days.” He held up his hand with the ring. “One of them tried to take this.”

“But they didn’t get it.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

The smart thing, Ladybug thought, was to demand the Miraculous from Chat Noir. At least then she could keep it safe. But then she thought about the night before, and how well they had worked together. Maybe he could help her. “Chat Noir,” she said, “you know this city?”

“Like my own heart, milady.”

“And you wish to protect the people in it?”

Chat Noir’s eyes were hard. “I would die for them.”

Ladybug nodded to herself. “All right,” she said. “You can keep the black cat Miraculous, as long as you help me recover the others. And once I have them, you will give up the Miraculous.”

Chat Noir held out his clawed hand. “A fine accord,” he said. Then he withdrew slightly. “Milady… I’m sure you understand a desire for privacy. I prefer that you know me only as this. To… protect the Miraculous.”

Ladybug hesitated, but of course she also wanted to keep Marinette a secret. If someone was searching for the remaining Miraculous, it was better no one knew she was _la coccinelle._ “Then until next time, Chat Noir.”

They shook hands. Ladybug pulled out her yoyo to leave.

“Wait, one last question. Will you marry me?”

Ladybug gawked, and then laughed. “No. That was a stupid question, Chat Noir.”

He grinned, and she had to admit that it wasn’t unattractive. “It never hurts to ask milady.” He gave a little bow. “ _Au revoir._ ” He dropped easily off the side of the building and disappeared into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right. we're back. i'm getting back to writing, i was on vacation and then moving and working and applying for jobs. now i am moved and unemployed so plenty of time to write. i'm envisioning like 6 akuma tops for this story? probs around 30 chapters.

Marinette looked at herself in the great silver mirror. She was having trouble imagining the mess of pins and fabric currently covering her as the gorgeous, red ensemble that King Gabriel had designed.

“Marinette, okay, listen to what I’ve written so far.” Alya was curled up on the sofa with a tray of delicate pastries in front of her. “ _La coccinelle_ so heroically saved the members of the king’s court on the twelfth of July when confronted with the villain Climatika. She, clad in black and red, concealed by a mask, defeated the villain, and saved the Lady Aurore from her own demons! Who is this _femme fatale,_ and when can we hope to see her again?”

Blushing, Marinette turned to her and said, “It’s really nice.”

“ _Bouge pas!_ ” the seamstress snapped. Marinette went rigid and faced herself in the mirror again.

* * *

 

Adrien went down the steps of Versailles as quickly as princely conduct would allow. “What’s the rush?” Plagg asked from inside his collar.

“Nino is back!” Adrien whispered excitedly.

Plagg yawned. “Whom?”

“My friend was on a mission for the last ten months, but he’s back!”

Adrien hurried to the stables. Nino was there, brushing down his stallion. He saw Adrien and bowed. “ _Dauphin!_ ”

“Don’t bow, please, my father isn’t here,” Adrien insisted, and then he embraced Nino. “How was your mission?” He gasped. “Oh, there is so much to tell you! A few nights ago there was an attack on the palace!”

“What?” Nino cried. “From England?”

“No, no, I’ll explain everything. But what’s most important—.” Adrien gave a dramatic sigh. “Is that I am in love.”

“If the woman is Chloé I promise you I will mount this horse and leave.”

“Not at all!” His eyes took on a dreamy look. “A fair maiden with dark, shining hair, and eyes as blue as crystal. Her name is _la coccinelle,_ the savior of Versailles!” He sighed again. “And the thief of my heart.”

Nino sputtered with laughter. “All right, when can I meet this fair lady?”

“Soon. Come, please, I have missed you so much, and I have much to tell you about.”

* * *

 

Marinette redressed in her blue _qipao_ after the fitting while Alya gathered her papers, engrossed in her own writing. “And then,” she read, “ _la coccinelle_ drew upon her great power, _la porte bonheur!_ ” She squealed with excitement as she followed Marinette out of the seamstress’s chamber.

“What is _porte bonheur?_ ” Marinette asked.

“It brings good luck. Ladybug is lady luck!”

Marinette smirked to herself—and then ran into something hard enough that she was knocked off her wooden sandals and onto her rear.

“Pah! Watch where you’re going!”

Marinette was bewildered. All around her was yellow satin. She lifted her eyes to see none other than Chloé Bourgeois. Of course.

Chloé harrumphed and gathered her skirts. “I hope you didn’t get any of your makeup on my dress!” she cried. “Sabrina! Fetch a brush for my gown.”

The orange-haired girl from the ball scurried out from behind Chloé to find a brush.

Alya scowled and help Marinette to her feet. She could feel vicious words rising in her throat, but she couldn’t remember the French word for “stain,” so she said nothing. Instead she folded her hands into her sleeves, straightened her back, and walked past Chloé Bourgeois with Alya in tow.

They descended the palace steps to the garden together, Marinette absolutely steaming. “I hate!” she cried, stopping. “I _hate_ that my French is bad! I spent over a year on that ship to come here, learning, and still!” She huffed and dropped onto a bench in front of a magnificent fountain.

Alya straightened her papers and sat down beside her. “Chloé is _une tache_ on French high society.”

“ _Tache?_ ”

“A bad mark, like when one spills soup on their shirt.”

“That’s exactly the word I was looking for earlier! _Une tache._ ”

“No one seems to like her except Prince Adrien.” Alya stood up. “Speak of the devil, here he comes now!”

Marinette instantly felt too warm. She could see the prince approaching them with another man, but her head filled with the idea that Adrien _liked_ Chloé! Oh, no, what was she to do?

“ _Monseigneur,_ ” Alya said, bowing slightly as they drew nearer. Marinette bowed as well.

“Oh, please,” Adrien said, “Princess Marinette, you needn’t bow to me.”

Marinette realized they technically held the same rank, but she blushed wildly all the same.

“Ladies, may I present to you _Chevalier_ Nino Lahiffe de Maghreb. He has been away for many months, but has finally returned to serve in the palace.”

“An honor, ladies.” Sir Nino bowed low. When he straightened up, he looked at Marinette. She smiled politely, and he smiled back, but with something knowing in his eyes. “Won’t you dine with us later, _mesdames?_ We have an audience with the king, and then we are to have tea in the garden.”

“Would you ladies care to join us?” asked Prince Adrien.

Alya glanced at Marinette, who was incapable of speech. “Oh, we would love to!” she said.

“ _Magnifique,_ ” said Nino. “We will see you at three.”

The boys walked away, and Alya surprised Marinette with a rather violent elbow to the ribs.

“Ow!”

“Princess Marinette,” Alya said, her voice low and conspiratorial, “dare I assume that you are in love with _le Dauphin?_ ”

Marinette’s jaw dropped. “I… I don’t…” She switched to Chinese. “Love is a very strong word…”

“Princess!” Alya’s face practically glowed. “Imagine, a marriage between the prince and a foreign dignitary! And what a smart match. Oh, do let me help you!”

“Help me?” Marinette said. She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I did not come to get married. Pursuing him would undermine my true purpose here.

“Marriage is diplomacy!”

“Alya…”

“All right, all right,” said Alya. “But having tea with your host is not pursuit. So we will have tea.”

Marinette sighed, but a smile crept upon her face. “He really is handsome, isn’t he?”

“He’s like the butter melting on a fresh baguette.”

“ _Alya!_ ”

* * *

 

Adrien entered his father’s study. The head of staff, Nathalie, stood beside the king at his desk. “Father,” Adrien called. “There is someone I wish you would speak with.”

King Gabriel did not look up, but waved him forward.

Nino followed Adrien and they both stopped a respectful distance from the desk. “My king,” Nino said, bowing, “I humbly ask to join your royal guard.”

The king continued writing. Nathalie said, “There are no positions open currently, _monsieur…_?”

“Lahiffe,” Nino said. “Nino Lahiffe de Maghreb.”

“I would like M Lahiffe as part of my guard, actually,” Adrien said.

Gabriel looked up, but at Nathalie, not at Adrien or Nino. Nathalie leaned down and he whispered something in her ear, and she nodded. Then, as if they were an afterthought, she said, “I’m sorry, there are simply no positions available. But we always need people in the colonies.” She made a note on the desk. “I’ll see that you are assigned a position in Morocco.”

Adrien was taken aback. “But—Nathalie, Father, I—.”

King Gabriel rose to his feet and exited the study. Nathalie nodded once at Adrien and followed him out. The prince was left alone in the study with his friend, their hopes dashed.

“I… I’m sorry,” Adrien said, daring to break the silence. “He’s like this sometimes, it doesn’t mean no.”

Nino straightened up. “I think we know very clearly what that was, my prince.” His voice was bitter. “I think I’d like to go see my family before I’m reassigned again.”

Adrien wanted to protest, but what could he say? So he let his friend walk away.

* * *

 

Nino left the palace in a huff. He should have known better to get his expectations up, but Adrien had spoken like he had only needed to ask. The king, he realized, had only grown colder since the death—disappearance, he should say—of the queen. He crossed the courtyard in fast, angry strides, and did not see the butterfly approaching.

_Bonjour, Chevalier._

He came to a halt in the middle of the courtyard, so abrupt that the guards stationed at the gate frowned at him. Nino looked around, wary. “Who’s there?”

_Do not look around so foolishly. I am not there physically. My name is le Papillon, and I want to give you what you want. I will give you powers to defy even the king. But you will do something for me in return._

Nino clenched his fist. “Gladly, Monsieur Papillon.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Marinette and Alya sat at the table in the rose garden. Tea, cakes, and pastries had been brought out by the staff, but Adrien and his friend had not yet arrived.  

“I wonder what’s keeping them,” Marinette said. She was anxious to see Adrien, but she also had been eyeing a strawberry cake with sugar pink icing.

“What is _that?_ ” Alya said.

Marinette followed her eyes and saw something spreading across the sky above them. A golden, transparent sheet that Marinette could did not spread to the horizon, but curved down and encompassed the palace grounds. The Miraculous! No, she thought, an akuma was more likely.

She turned to tell Alya that they should get out of the open, but her friend was already gone. .She saw her running toward the arch that led to the front of the palace. “Where are you going!?”

“It came from here!” Alya called. “I must record the events for posterity!”

Marinette couldn’t help but smile. Her new friend was certainly not boring. “Tikki,” she said in Chinese, “it seems we are alone. Transform me!”

* * *

 

Adrien saw his friend Nino change from the top of the palace steps, and fear gripped his heart. What darkness had possessed him? He watched as the purple cloud faded, and instead of Nino stood a tall, armored knight, the plates of his armor in the bright colors of the Agreste family crest. Suddenly, the knight drew his sword to the heavens, and a jet of golden light shot out of it. It began to spread in the sky like a swarm of locusts.

Quickly, Adrien slipped back inside. “Plagg,” he whispered to the kwami resting in his collar, “there’s another akuma! And it’s my friend. What do I do?”

Plagg yawned. “Don’t wake me up, for one.”

“No, please, I need help!”

“If you subdue him and release the butterfly, Ladybug will fix him up, just like last time.” Plagg yawned again. “Does that make you feel better?”

Adrien exhaled. “It does. Plagg, _transforme-moi!_ ”

* * *

 

 

Chevalier swung his sword at a gardener, and a golden light shot from the tip and enveloped the man, and then suddenly he was trapped within a small, golden bubble. “For your protection,” he said.

 _Excellent, Chevalier,_ whispered the Papillon, _another one who will be safe from those who would do harm. Are you not as great a protector of the realm as the king?_

“I am _greater_ than the king!” cried Chevalier.

Ladybug landed on the roof of the palace, and what she saw was strange. Dozens of people—gardeners, members of the court, and guards—had been trapped inside golden bubbles, not unlike the one that encompassed the whole grounds of Versailles. She had to find out where the butterfly was hidden.

The monster was confronted by three musketeers, who drew their swords and readied to cross blades. But the monster simply drew his sword, and Ladybug saw the beginnings of the golden bubble at the tip of the blade.

She leapt from the top of the palace and sprinted, and when she was close enough to flung her yoyo out. It wrapped around the musketeers and with a hard _pull_ she yanked them out of the way of the attack.  It zapped right past them and instead put a bubble around a small bush.

The monster turned on her, its armor shining in those bizarre colors.  “Get out of here!” she told the musketeers.  “I’ll handle this.”

“Certainly not alone, I hope.”

Ladybug glanced behind her, and there he was. “Chat Noir,” she said curtly.

“ _Bonjour,_ my lady.”  He leaned on his sword.  “And just who do we have here?”

“I am Chevalier!” the monster cried.  “I will protect this realm while the king sits in his castle, and protects his ego!”

Chat _tsk_ ed.  “Not a very good _chevalier_ if he’s not loyal to his king.”

Ladybug hurled her yoyo at Chevalier and it wrapped around the blade in his hand.  She pulled it back, snatching the blade from his grasp and bringing it to her.  When she had it, she snapped it in two over her knee.  “Aha!” she cried as she readied for the butterfly.  “That was too easy.  Goodbye, Cheval—.”

A flash of gold burst forth from the broken blade, and suddenly Ladybug was not on her own two feet.  And someone else’s feet were on top of her.  The world around her was tinged with gold.  She tried to stand, but could not get her footing. 

“Ow!”

She had stepped on Chat Noir.  They were trapped together in the bubble. 

“I don’t understand,” Ladybug said.  “Where is the butterfly!?”

Distorted laughter came from outside the bubble, and Chevalier appeared outside.  He held the broken pieces of his sword together and they fused and were whole.  “ _La coccinelle,_ ” he said, “Papillon told me all about you and your little _minou._   But see how I have protected the realm from the likes of you!”  He laughed again.  “Now hand over your power, your Miraculous!”

Ladybug gasped.  So their enemy knew what he was using.  She leapt to her feet, or tried to, as the bubble was a tight space, and stepped hard on Chat Noir’s thigh.  “We will _never_ relinquish our Miraculous!”

“You needn’t give it to me,” Chevalier said. “I can take it from you.  And then I will rule as protector of this land!”

“The land already has a protector,” said Chat Noir, “and that’s King Gabriel.”   

Chevalier shouted, “Do not speak his name before me!”  He gave an almighty kick, and the bubble lurched upwards.  Ladybug gasped as the ground dropped away.  They soon slowed, but continued floating, up and up, approaching the golden bubble overhead.  

“Well,” said Chat Noir, “I certainly did not foresee being in such close quarters with a beautiful woman today.”

Ladybug pushed against the wall of the bubble.  It didn’t budge.  She stretched out to kick at it with all her might, but the form simply stretched out.

“My lady, please.”

Ladybug glanced up and realized she was all but in Chat Noir’s lap.  She would have gotten up, but where else could she go?  Instead she folded her arms and huffed.  “Well, I don’t see you trying to break us out of here.”

His chuckle rumbled in his chest against her back.  “It’s not the worst predicament we could be in.”

Ladybug turned her head and found his mischievous green eyes waiting for her.  It suddenly made her blush to be so close to him.  “You _do_ have a way to get us out,” she snapped.

Chat said, “You don’t think we’re up a little high?”

“Let me worry about that.”

With an expression between uncertain and terrified, Chat Noir murmured, “ _Cataclysme,_ ” and with dark magic sparkling on his hand, he touched the wall of the bubble.

The bubble disintegrated into ash, and it seemed they were suspended for a moment before gravity took hold and then they were rushing down to the earth.

Ladybug acted on instinct. She threw her yoyo and yanked Chat toward her, wrapped her arm around his waist while he clung to her with his legs. She then aimed her yoyo down, to the tallest part of Versailles. It caught. There wasn’t a lot of room for error. With all of her strength Ladybug held fast, angling herself so that instead of plunging to the ground, they swooped sideways and around. Her feet skimmed the earth and then they were launched back up, around, and she couldn’t keep her grip. They were slingshotted toward the gardens.

Chat Noir drew his sword from its scabbard and pointed it at the ground. It extended, and became taller than anything around it. He held onto Ladybug and cried out as the sword bent, beyond what any metal sword could stand, and slowed them down enough that they hit the ground with only a shock to their knees, instead of broken bones.

Ladybug collapsed on her rear. The blade was quivering so much she feared it would launch Chat Noir away again, but as she watched it drew back into its handle, and he sheathed it again.

“Cats always land on their feet,” he said, breathless, and offered his hand to help her up.

Ladybug scowled, but a smile took its place as he pulled her to her feet. “I think we could use some help, don’t you?” She threw her yoyo skywards. “ _Lucky charm!_ ”

The item that dropped into her hands was…

A pair of scissors?

Ladybug scowled and looked around, the plan forming in her mind. She saw Chat Noir’s sword, and the sash that Chevalier wore across his armor, and it all clicked.

She took Chat Noir’s arm and put his sword to her own throat, trapping herself in his grip. “Chevalier!” she cried. “Oh, save me, brave knight!”

“My lady, what are you doing?” Chat whispered.

“Play along!” she hissed. “Chevalier, please, protect me!”

Chevalier’s face was not visible, but he hesitated. Then he drew his sword. “As protector of this realm, I will save you!”

A butterfly appeared over his helmet, and the knight hesitated again.

“I’ll kill her!” Chat Noir yelled, drawing the blade tighter. Ladybug gasped at the cold metal against her neck.

Finally Chevalier charged, sword raised. Ladybug readied the scissors behind her back.

When the akuma drew near enough, Chat Noir raised his sword to block the blow. Ladybug ducked and smoothly cut through the sash on Chevalier’s armor.

A dark butterfly flew out of it.

Ladybug quickly captured it with her yoyo, and when she released it, it was white as snow. Instead of Chevalier, Nino Lahiffe stood, dumbfounded.

“We did it!” Chat Noir cried. “Vile foe, thou art vanquished!”

With the release of the ladybugs, the golden dome that had trapped the palace evaporated. The members of the palace cheered. Someone ran up to her, a young man, and clasped her hand. “ _Mademoiselle,_ you are incredible! Again, you’ve saved us, and our king. Never has France beheld such a beautiful, striking woman! Please, allow me to paint your portrait, and immortalize you on canvas.”

His words were extravagant, and Ladybug didn’t catch all of them. But Chat Noir appeared beside her and gently removed the man’s hand. “The lady is busy, and her affections are otherwise accounted for.”

Ladybug didn’t quite understand what had transgressed, but she was grateful that Chat had removed the man’s hand. Her earrings chimed again. “Um, thank you, but I must leave,” she said, and she zipped away.

She went to as secluded a spot she could find in the rear of the gardens, in the orange grove. She detransformed and collapsed against a tree.

“Oh, Marinette, you’ll soil your dress!” Tikki cried.

Marinette shrieked and jumped to her feet. “Oh, I’m not used to princess robes. I miss my _gi._ ”

“You can tell them you fell when your bubble went away,” the kwami suggested.

When Marinette found Alya again, she didn’t have to offer any explanation, as her friend was so excited at having seen Ladybug again. “Oh, Marinette, you missed it! The hero of Paris was here again! I have so much to write.”

Prince Adrien arrived, with Sir Nino leaning heavily on him. Marinette’s heart swelled to see his compassion. “Are you all right?” she asked Nino.

“I’m exhausted,” Nino said, and he sat on the edge of the fountain. “How strange. I can’t remember much, but Adrien tells me I attacked the palace.”

“You did,” Alya said, dropping next to him. “Do tell me about it. I would love to know what it was like.”

Nino looked sad. “I will never be assigned a place in the palace now. I ought to be executed for treason.”

“That will never happen,” Adrien said vehemently.

“Monsieur Lahiffe.”

The four of them glanced up and there was Madame Sancoeur, the woman whom the king trusted above all others. Nino rose to his feet. “ _Oui,_ madame?”

“The king would like to inform you that he has reconsidered,” she said, in a voice void of feeling. “You report to Commander D’Argencourt tomorrow morning.”

Nino lowered his eyes. “Madame, I am afraid I cannot—.”

Adrien clapped a hand on Nino’s shoulder so tightly that he squeaked. “He will be there first thing, thank you, Nathalie.”

Madame Sancoeur bowed slightly and left them.

Nino said, “I am a danger to you, _dauphin!_ ”

“I will hear no more of this,” Adrien said. “You are my friend. I want you close by.”

Nino paused, and then he smiled warmly. “Thank you.”

Alya said, “Now, it’s time for you to be questioned. I simply must know everything you recall.”

“How can I deny a woman such as yourself?” Nino laughed. He recounted everything, and when he revealed that whoever was controlling him called himself _le Papillon,_ Marinette knew with certainty that the thief was near, and that he was using the butterfly Miraculous.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow hi guys this chap was meant to be done at the beginning of the week and then it wasn't. i've had a crazy week! i got not married but like kinda? in france it's called a pacs. i'm very happy and in love and i'm also kinda learning to sew. being unemployed is crazy. anyway thanks for being here and if u leave a comment i'll be over the moon. 
> 
> also i admit i didn't reread the chapter so if you see mistakes please let me know 
> 
> ps see end of story for translation notes

With the knowledge that she was facing the butterfly Miraculous, Marinette wrote a letter to Master Fu. It would take over a year to reach him, but Marinette could be in France for a while, and she needed more information about the missing Miraculouses.

Her brush dashed a little too quickly across the paper and she groaned at yet another mistake. Normally her calligraphy was flawless, but, well, the _dauphin_ had asked if she would meet him for a walk in the gardens this afternoon, and Marinette was a little excited.

The clock chimed, and Marinette was on her feet so fast that she frightened Tikki sitting on the desk. “It’s time!” she sang. “It’s time it’s time it’s time it’s time!”

“Marinette, wait for me!”

* * *

 

Marinette tried to compose herself, but no matter how slowly she walked she could not get the heat in her cheeks to cool. A servant pulled the door to the gardens open for her, and there he was.

Prince Adrien. Oh, even the way he stood made her swoon. She loved his blond hair in the sunlight, tied back in a black ribbon. The powder blue of his suit. The jeweler’s green of his eyes…

She missed a step, and suddenly Marinette was flailing to keep her balance on the stairs. In her _gi_ she would leap easily down the stairs and land in a fighter’s pose. But these robes were so cumbersome!

Finally she was falling, and she was going to have a bloody lip or something and be unable to have her _promenade_ with Adrien.

But instead of faceplanting onto the steps, she careened into a powder blue chest. Oh, Adrien was catching her!

Well, he tried to catch her, at least.

They fell together, Marinette knocking him onto his back and then landing completely on top of him. It took the air from Adrien’s chest.

Marinette lifted her head up and found herself mere inches from Adrien’s face. “O-oh, oh non, _excuse-moi,_ oh no, oh my god are you okay.” Her face felt so red.

“I’m fine,” Adrien gasped. “I just… I can’t breathe.”

She scrambled to get off of him, and for a moment he lay there, arms above his head, taking shallow breaths.

At least seven guards and servants rushed to his side. “Oh, I’m fine, I’m fine,” Adrien told them with a smile. “I’ve been hurt worse playing with the palace cats.”

“Marinette, there you are!”

Marinette looked away from her shameful situation and saw Alya hurrying down the steps towards them. She arrived and glanced down at the prince. “What happened here?”

Marinette could find no words, so she just blushed. Two guards took Adrien by the arms and righted him.

“Well,” Alya said, and she recovered her excitement, “won’t you come into town with me? I wrote an astounding article about our masked heroes and I am bringing it to the newspaper for publication. Won’t you come?”

“No, Alya, I have plans with the prince,” is what Marinette would have liked to say. What she really said was, “Er, uh, hum…”

A servant with a brush appeared and began dusting off Adrien’s beautiful suit. “We were going to take a walk in the garden,” he said.

Marinette silently thanked God for Adrien. Bless him for saying what she could not.

“But we can do that anytime.”

… _T_ _ā m_ _ā de._

“If you wouldn’t mind, Alya, we can take my carriage. I haven’t been to Paris for some time now.”

Marinette held her breath, in case Alya said something to ruin this sudden turn of events.

But Alya was sly as a fox, and gave Marinette a most unsubtle look. “Why, _Dauphin,_ we would be honored to have you escort us into town.”

* * *

 

Marinette had ridden in a carriage upon her arrival, but it was not nearly as luxurious as this one. The seats were plush and blue. The outside was draped in gold. There were even glass windows that could move up and down with the help of a crank.

They bounced along the road into Paris, Marinette seated next to Alya, and Prince Adrien and Sir Nino across from them. Alya had a pile of papers on her lap, and was practically bouncing with excitement. “My father took me to the printing press when I was younger. It’s a fascinating machine. Have you been to Paris?”

“Yes,” said Prince Adrien. Then he backtracked. “A-a long time ago. My, um, mother would take me. But I haven’t been since she… passed away.”

The group was quiet for a moment. The carriage clattered along.

“I only saw Paris when we arrived,” Marinette said. “We disembarked from the boat on the Seine and got into a carriage to take us to Versailles.”

“I love Paris,” Alya said. “It has so much charm, and it’s not nearly as stuffy as the palace. Of course, Paris is nothing compared to the South. Marinette, really, if you haven’t seen the South, you haven’t seen France. _Dauphin,_ you have an estate in the South, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes, but we haven’t been in a while.” He smiled, but it looked sad.

When the carriage stopped on a tight Parisian street, Alya was bouncing with excitement. She threw open the carriage door and hopped out, absolutely unaffected by what almost knocked Marinette out cold. “It stinks!” she cried, covering her nose with her qipao sleeve.

“Yeah,” Nino said, laughing. “That’s Paris.”

Adrien grimaced. “It pains me that the capital of my country is so in need of help. When I take the throne I intend to change things.”

“Come on, come on!” Alya cried. Marinette had to smile. It made her heart warm to see how happy Alya was, and she wanted to share this with her.

And, she thought, her cheeks turning pink, it was nice to share it with Adrien too.

* * *

 

“This is _la merde._ ”

Alya seemed to turn to stone. Nino stepped forward and said, “What do you mean, it’s shit?”

The head of the newspaper removed his spectacles and ran a hand over his mustache and beard. “Something like this simply cannot be published.” He gestured to the pages on his desk. “The people do not want to read fantasy! They read the paper to know what their government is doing, what their king is doing!”

“This _is_ real!” Marinette cried. “There are truly two masked vigilantes that are watching over the city and the palace!”

“That’s why I wrote it,” said Alya. “The people should know what’s happening. This is what’s happening!”

“I cannot,” the man said. “On top of that, the writing has much too much flourish. And I cannot publish a woman without a pen name. There would be riots!” He picked up the pages and held them out. “Please leave. I don’t have time to deal with children.”

Adrien stepped forward. “Listen, I am _le Dau—_ ,” he started, but Alya put out her arm. “There’s no need,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s leave.”

The editor of the paper received evil looks from Marinette, Nino, and Adrien on their way out. But Alya did not look back. She gripped her precious pages, back straight, and they exited the building.

The footman hopped down to open the carriage, but instead of getting inside, Alya sat down on the step. Her expression was stricken. Marinette was suddenly worried that she would cry.

“Alya, Alya,” she said, placing her arms on her shoulders, “that man doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Your article is wonderful, I’m sure.”

“You didn’t read it,” Alya said numbly.

Marinette winced. It was true, reading in French gave her headache, so she avoided it as much as possible. She looked to Nino and Adrien. “We should go somewhere!” she said. “A restaurant. A bakery. For cakes, or chocolate. Do you know anywhere?”

“Oh, um, no,” Adrien said.

“There’s a place nearby,” Nino said. He turned to the footman.

But, out of the corner of Marinette’s eye, she saw something dark fluttering toward Alya. She glanced down in time to see the violet butterfly touch the papers in Alya’s hands, and disappear. And Alya sat up.

* * *

 

 _Bonjour,_ Nom de Plume, _I am le Papillon. You have been denied a voice in the press. I am giving you the power to be heard anywhere you like. When those vigilantes show up, expose them, and bring their Miraculouses to me._

“With pleasure, Papillon.”

* * *

 

Marinette, Adrien, and Nino all jumped back, because Alya stood up, and suddenly she was not Alya, but a woman dressed in black and white like newsprint. On her face was a black mask, and in her hair was a massive black feather. She gripped her now black pages in her gloved hands and smiled, a look that inspired fear. “Alya?” Marinette could not keep a tremble out of her voice.

“The world will know the truth, and I, Nom de Plume, will expose it!” she cried. She removed the feather from her hair and brandished it like a quill. “The words I write will be heard by all!”

Nom de Plume leapt into the air, to the shock of many passersby. “Another monster!” someone cried, pointing. As she disappeared, leaflets floated to the ground. Marinette picked one up. It read:

**La Coccinelle et Chat Noir: des heroes ou des villains? Venez a la Place de Cardeurs pour découvrir la vérité!**

“We have to save her!” Nino said.

“Yes, um, you go that way.” Marinette pointed. “And I’ll go this way. Bye!” She took off before either of them could protest.

Prince Adrien faced a similar dilemma. “We should split up too.”

“No, my prince,” Nino replied, drawing his sword. “I must protect you. Please, stay with me.”

Adrien grimaced. “Well, what if I stay in the carriage? I’ll be safe that way, won’t I?”

Nino hesitated, but the sound of people screaming made him decide. “All right. But you must not leave the carriage!” He fixed Adrien with a stern look, and then ran off after Nom de Plume.

Adrien sighed in relief. He glanced at the footman. “If the knight asks later, I was here the whole time. That’s an order.”

The footman gave a small bow, and Adrien ran off into a secluded ally.

“Plagg, this is insane,” he murmured once he was alone. “We actually saw the akuma infect her. And I saw Nino transform last week. I think I might know how the attacker is choosing his victims!”

“That’s wonderful,” Plagg yawned. “You don’t happen to have any cheese, do you?”

“There’s no time for a snack! _Transforme-moi!_ ”

Chat Noir leapt up the side of the building, hopping from one ledge to another. When he emerged onto the rooftop, his heart sang to see a familiar red-clad figure sprinting across the next set of rooftops.

“Fancy seeing you here, _mademoiselle!_ ” he called, running to catch up.

“Chat Noir? Oh, just in time. There’s another monster!”

Nom de Plume was a speck floating high above the city. Everywhere she went, pages fell, distributing the news. Now she only had to wait for the masked vigilantes to show themselves.

And show themselves they did. Why, it was just too easy! As an investigator Nom de Plume would like a bit more of a challenge, but this story was practically writing itself.

As they drew nearer, she pulled away. She had to keep her distance, and maintain the chase. The people would be gathering the square.

“Ladybug,” Chat Noir called. “The akuma is in her papers!”

Ladybug looked at him. Well, she had known that, because she saw the transformation happen. But how did Chat Noir know? “She’s dropping papers all over the place!” Ladybug threw her yoyo at a fluttering page, and it burst into dust, but no butterfly appeared. “She must be making copies of the true _objet akumatis_ _é_."

Chat Noir laughed. “That’s not a real word.”

“And akuma is?”

“…I suppose I spoke too soon, my lady.”

Ladybug smiled, a little bit pleased to have one-upped a native French speaker. Then more screams were heard, and she leapt into action.

The problem with Nom de Plume was that she was too damn fast. No matter how many times Ladybug caught up, and threw her yoyo, Nom de Plume was able to zip out of range. But, Ladybug noticed, she wasn’t leading them away from anything. She seemed to be leading them in a circle. Ladybug scanned the area, looking for some clue. And then she saw it. A large square. The _place_ mentioned on the pamphlets. It was filling up with citizens. Ladybug’s heart quickened. What if Nom de Plume was planning something terrible, and all those people were to be victims?

Before she could mention her fears to Chat Noir, Nom de Plume in the square, standing on what was usually an execution stage, looking down at hundreds of Parisians that watched her with both wonder and terror.

“Citizens of Paris!” she called. “I am Nom de Plume, and I am your savior! Many of you have seen the two masked vigilantes, running around this city like it is their own! Must we revere them, or fear them?”

Ladybug and Chat Noir landed on a roof at the edge of the square. Ladybug was hesitant to intervene. What if people got hurt because they fought here? She wasn’t sure if her ladybug power could put the blood back into bleeding bystanders.

“We are here to protect Paris!” Chat Noir shouted, on his feet. His cape furled out behind him rather perfectly. “You are the true threat, not us.”

Ladybug grimaced as his words seemed to do the opposite of what he wanted. Nom de Plume smirked. “How can the people of Paris trust a man who hides behind a mask?”

The people in the square shouted in agreement. “But you’re wearing a mask too!” Chat said, but his reply was lost in the riotous cries of the citizens of Paris.

“They’re right,” Ladybug said. “How can we possibly act as benevolent protectors if we are dressed like criminals?”

Chat Noir stared at her. “ _What?_ What are you _talking_ about?”

Ladybug ignored him. She threw her yoyo and swooped down to stand next to Nom de Plume who, to Chat’s shock, did not even flinch. “I want to be honest with the people of this city!” announced Ladybug.

Chat Noir gaped. Was this a strategy? Was Ladybug playing? Or did Nom de Plume really have control of her? Oh, god, and if she was truly taken, Chat Noir had no way to purify the akuma and save Alya! He thought back to their run. Had Nom de Plume somehow affected her?

He couldn’t trust that Ladybug was playing some risky strategy. He would have to destroy the akumatized object without her. And that, he realized, meant playing the same strategy.

Chat extended his sword and used it to step easily across the crowd, landing lightly on the platform next to Nom de Plume. She did give him a strange look, so he decided to play it up.

“Yes, people of Paris,” he said, “to show you we are not criminals, _la coccinelle_ and I will remove our masks.”

“That’s not all we want!” Nom de Plume cried, and the crowd cheered with her. “Who are you to wield such powers? Give up your magic, your unnatural affronts to God and nature, to prove yourselves!”

As the people screamed their approval, Chat saw Ladybug reach up for her earrings.

Oh, well, that was fun. Time to fight.

“ _Cataclysme!_ ” Chat Noir lunged for Nom de Plume’s papers, but she jerked back in time. His hand was tingling with black energy as he reached for her. He didn’t want to touch her on accident—what if it killed her?

“Citizens, help!” Nom de Plume rocketed into the air and hovered there above them. Chat jumped up, hoping to grab her foot and pull her down, but something wrapped around his leg, and he was yanked out of the air and thrown hard on the wooden stage.

Ladybug stood over him, twirling her yoyo.

“What are you doing?” Chat cried.

“You are a threat to this city,” Ladybug replied. She struck out with her yoyo.

Chat backflipped out of the way. The Cataclysm was still in his hand; he hadn’t accidentally touched anything. But he could not fight Ladybug with it. He drew his sword with his left hand and tried not to panic.

Nom de Plume hovered just above them. Could Chat Noir throw his rapier and knock the papers out of her hands? It was worth a try—

Ladybug came at him, cutting off his train of thought and forcing him to block. She was incredible, a flurry of kicks and punches that Chat Noir couldn’t possibly deflect, and it became more an effort not to touch her with his Cataclysm than to protect himself.

The platform was starting to move. People were pushing against it, trying to climb up, scrambling over one another. Somewhere, he heard Nom de Plume laugh.

And then, suddenly, he stepped wrong, and tripped. He threw out his hands to catch himself and suddenly the platform turned to ash. He and Ladybug fell to the ground, and the angry people in the square stormed them.

“Hold him there!”

Hands grabbed Chat Noir and lifted him up, securely gripping his arms so he could not move. Nom de Plume descended on them. Her newsprint dress billowed out around her, the quill back in her hair. “Dear Chat Noir,” she said, simpering, “you can’t fight the will of the people. Revolution runs in their blood.” The purple butterfly mask appeared over her eyes, then faded. “I’ll be taking your ring.”

She reached out, her gloved hand inching closer, and suddenly Chat saw his opportunity. He lunged bodily, and caught her papers in his mouth. She pulled back on instinct, and he heard a beautiful, beautiful _rip._

The papers fell to the ground. The butterfly appeared. The hands on Chat Noir loosened their grips as he heard a chime that his magic would soon be worn out.

Ladybug snapped to attention. As soon as she saw the butterfly, she whipped out her yoyo and captured it. When she opened her yoyo again, a pure white butterfly fluttered out.

“Whew,” Chat said, sagging. “That was a bit close, wasn’t it?”

Instead of Nom de Plume, Alya sat in the middle of the square. “Oh,” she said, almost sobbing, “my… my papers.”

Ladybug’s eyes widened. “Don’t worry, I can fix it! Lucky charm!!”

Chat Noir wondered what her magic would give her, since there was no threat anymore. Whatever it was, it was small enough for Ladybug to catch it in the palm of her hand. She looked at it, uncertain. Then she knelt down next to Alya. “Do you see this?” she murmured.

Alya glanced up. “ _L-la coccinelle?_ ” she whispered.

Ladybug nodded. She showed her the tiny object in her hand. “This is my power,” she explained. “I can make it so none of this ever happened.” She picked up one of the torn pages. “I can even put these back together.” Then she said, “But I could never create something like this. This is your power. And that’s not something I can give you. I know you’re feeling bad now, but I believe in you.”

Alya blinked a few times, and then she wiped her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said, her voice weak.

Ladybug smiled, and got to her feet. When she threw the object in the air, Chat Noir watched the glowing ladybugs with awe. Before his eyes they reconstructed the platform, they mended Alya’s papers, they picked up all the stray pages and then the ladybugs disappeared. And, Chat thought, the streets looked a little cleaner, too.

He was so entranced that he almost missed Ladybug zipping away. The chime of his own Miraculous prompted him, and he hurried after her.

“Ladybug, wait!” he called.

She stopped, but she looked reluctant. “I’m going to lose my transformation any minute now,” she said.

“I know, me too, but, what happened? How did she control you?”

Ladybug frowned. “I… I think I touched one of her papers.”

Chat Noir shook his head. “Your power is too important to lose,” he said. “Let me take the risks. If we lose you, we lose this fight. We don’t even know who we’re fighting yet!”

Ladybug said, “I know who we’re fighting, I just—.” She scowled and touched her ear. Another chime. “Everything was stolen. All of the Miraculouses. The book of secrets. My master is the last of the guardians of the Miraculous and it is my duty to recover them. But whoever stole them knows how to use them. And that makes them very, very dangerous.” She sighed. “But he does not have my master’s Miraculous. He does not have the ladybug, the Miraculous of creation. And somehow, you have the cat, the Miraculous of destruction. So our enemy is not all-powerful.”

“Still,” Chat said. And he reached out to place his hand on her shoulder. “Let me get hurt next time. Even if I’m under some villain’s control, at the end of the day, you can make it right.”

Ladybug met his eyes, and again he was struck by just how blue they were. She sighed, and then she smiled. “All right. But don’t make a habit of it.” She stepped back and flew away.

Chat Noir sighed, feeling weak in the knees.

* * *

 

Marinette practically stumbled out of her transformation, and caught Tikki as she dropped, exhausted. “Oh, dear Tikki, I’m sorry I cut it so close.”

“It’s okay, Marinette,” she whispered. “You saved the day!”

Marinette could not fight the smile on her lips. “I did, didn’t I?” She placed Tikki in her sleeve. “I’ll get you some food as soon as I can. For now, we have to find Alya!”

* * *

 

Adrien, Nino and Alya were standing outside the carriage, along with the newspaper editor, when Marinette arrived.

“There you are, Marinette!” Alya cried, and she was smiling so wide.

“What happened?” Marinette said, out of breath. “I—you, um. _Ça va?_ ”

“Yes, yes, _ça va,_ _ça va,_ the editor agreed to publish my story.”

Marinette looked at the editor, whose expression was somewhere between shocked and terrified. “Y-yes,” he said, and he bowed his head. “It seems that things in Paris have become… utterly fantastic. And I would be happy to have Mademoiselle Cesaire writing articles that detail the latest exploits of the Guardians of Paris.”

“Guardians of Paris?” Marinette repeated, feeling her heart rise just a little. “What a title!”

The ride back to the palace was filled with Alya explaining everything she could remember from the event that day. “I think I’ll see if the palace tailor can recreate the dress I had. The power I had… that man in my head…”

“Le papillon?” asked Nino.

“Yes! I don’t remember all that much. But it’s incredible that he can give me power like that.”

“He uses us as puppets,” Nino murmured. He looked at Adrien. “My prince, I will do everything in my power to prevent such a thing from happening to you.”

Adrien smiled politely. “Well, for both of you,” he said, “le papillon struck when you were angry, or upset. And I think that’s how he chooses his victims. Vulnerable people who will say yes to what he has to give.”

Marinette blinked. Prince Adrien was right, she realized. Oh, if only she had Master Fu here. If she could only find the book of secrets!

* * *

 

Hours later, Marinette was seated at the desk in her room, carefully finishing up her letter to Master Fu. There was a knock at the door, and she gasped as a drop of ink just barely missed the paper. She replaced her brush and went to answer.

Madame Bustier was there. “This letter came for you, my child,” she said, holding out an envelope.

“Already?” Marinette frowned and received it. “But I shouldn’t receive any correspondence for months, shouldn’t I?” She opened it.

_Mei Ai,_

_It seems that your job is more difficult than expected. Word of a masked ladybug has reached even the ports of Portugal. It is disappointing to hear that you have become so flagrant with the powers bestowed upon you by the last Guardian. We will be stopping in Paris on our way back to China. We arrive at the end of the month._

_Signed,_

_Prince Wang_

_Fourth son of Emperor Qing_

Marinette gaped, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her uncle was coming to France.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tā mā de - i don't speak chinese, so this is what i found to be like "shit" for Marinette to say 
> 
> La Coccinelle et Chat Noir: des heroes ou des villains? Venez a la Place de Cardeurs pour decouvrir la verité! - ladybug and chat noir: heroes or villains? come to Place de Cardeurs to learn the truth!
> 
> pps if anyone wants to draw alya's nom de plume outfit i will cry forever


End file.
